From the desk of Dr Hal Emmerich
by Rydia Highwind
Summary: Post MGS - Exerts from Hal's journal soon after he and Dave move to Manhattan. SnakeBox. (Yes, I'm serious.)


Title: From the desk of Dr. Hal Emmerich  
Author: Rydia Highwind  
Pairing: Snake/Box (nope, I'm serious)  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: Metal Gear Solid and all characters from it belong to Hideo Kojima and Konami. Which I love them for.  
Summary: Exerts from Hal's journal soon after he and Dave move to Manhattan after MGS.  
  
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_From the desk of Dr. Hal Emmerich_  
4:27pm, Wednesday   
  
-- Well, we seemed to be moved into the new apartment successfully on some of Dave's pension plan from the military, and a bit of what he got for selling the huskies. The UN has agreed to pay for our boarding as well as buy us a vehicle and fuel for it. We'll be responsible to feed ourselves and furnish our apartment, as well as pay for utilities and extras (like the DSL which had _better_ be installed tomorrow). It's not a particularly nice apartment, but it serves our purposes and is pretty low-key, which is what we need for this little group of ours. And it's a lot better than anything we dared hope for.   
  
Speaking of which, we still haven't come up with a name. Dave claims not to care, but he's turned down every suggestion I've given him, except for 'Deathbringers,' which I randomly threw out because I was annoyed at his rejections. I should have known better, honestly. (I also just added 'deathbringers' to the spell check. What's this world coming to?) I kind of want a title that reflects our intentions to do good to the world, despite the means we're using. I mean, as much as I'm for pacifism, I feel that this is really the only legitimate way to get rid of the metal gears of the world. Fortunately (or unfortunately, take your pick), the UN agrees.   
  
Everything's moved in here now, though most of it is still in boxes. We didn't have much problems finding packing supplies for whatever reason. Dave seems to have collected cardboard boxes in the basement of his cottage up in Alaska. I can't prove it, but I'm pretty sure he packed a box full of smaller boxes to take with him here. I'm not complaining, though, as long as he doesn't try to put them in my room or something. And I won't say anything to him about it either, because he'll just tell me that I'm on the computer too often...which is something I can't argue with.   
  
All that said, I have been making an effort to get some off-computer time. (It's a lot easier than it will be right now, though, since the DSL hasn't been hooked up yet.) I plan on buying DDR and a dance pad soon, since I've heard it's a great game. There's a lot of space in my room right now too, so I can hook it up right away, and then I won't have to worry about making room for it later.   
  
Oh, and while we're on the subject of video games, I forgot to mention that I picked up this incredible PSX at that rummage sale a week ago. It's got a seven inch LCD screen (though the color doesn't work that well; the red seems to smear across the screen) and a mod chip! Finally, I can play my Japanese version of Final Fantasy IX! Not that I'll be able to understand it, but I know pretty much the entire game from memory anyway.   
  
Love and peace,  
Otacon   
  
--   
  
5:48pm, Wednesday   
  
-- Okay, I can prove it now. Dave has a box sitting in the living room labeled "boxes." While he was off trying to find the local laundromat, I peeked inside. And just as I suspected, it's filled with different cardboard boxes of all different sizes. Dave is a very strange guy. Maybe he figures we might need the boxes if we have to move again? The UN said it might be a good idea if we moved around at least once a year, and I suppose we might acquire extra stuff, but Dave doesn't seem like the kind of guy to plan ahead like that...   
  
On an unrelated note, there's obviously something wrong with my spell checker today, because it's telling me I need to capitalize the word 'laundromat,' which is just silly. And since I'm anal-retentive, I can't stand those little squiggly red lines under words when I spell them what my computer deems incorrectly, so I now have 'deathbringers' AND 'laundromat' added to my spell checker's dictionary.   
  
Love and peace,  
Otacon   
  
--   
  
8:14pm, Wednesday   
  
-- The strangest thing just happened to me. Apparently Dave likes his boxes more than I thought, because he just gave me a thorough tongue-lashing on the proper care of cardboard, with specific references to dents on the box of boxes I'd found before that probably require a magnifying lens to see. (Or Dave vision? I don't know. I just nodded like I had some clue as to what he was referring to.) I apologized to him for opening his box, saying I thought it was one of mine...well, that didn't help either, because then he proceeded to give me a lecture on the proper usage of labels.   
  
I can deal with him getting up at 5am and then complaining about needing caffeine. I dealt with him sleeping with three huskies on top of him when he couldn't afford the heating bill. I even dealt with dial-up in that little cabin, since no one wanted to install DSL up there. This guy bought me _waffles_ as a housewarming gift. He's weird, there's no denying it. I guess I'll just have to deal with a cardboard obsession too?   
  
Really, I'm not that different when it comes down to it. Once Dave knocked my Vash the Stampede figurine off of the shelf and I nearly lost Kuroneko-sama. (Oh look, two more words for the spell checker. No, MS Word, I _don't_ want to change 'Vash' to 'vat,' but thank you.) I guess normal people don't talk back to their spell check either.   
  
At any rate, most of Dave's boxes have now been removed from the general living space and I can only assume he's put them in his bedroom. I've previously determined that I should stay out in hopes that he'd stay out of here, though my sheer, morbid curiosity is compelling me to do otherwise. I mean, really. What exactly is it that he loves so much about these boxes? They're just reinforced paper designed in cubical shapes to use for storage. I don't understand the obsession. At least with my anime, I can point at the plot or the characters as justification for my love. What are you going to use to justify your love of boxes? I don't get it.   
  
I'm going to try and hook up the television tonight. I can't wait to try FF9 in Japanese.   
  
Love and peace,  
Otacon   
  
--   
  
10:02pm, Wednesday   
  
-- I decided to set up the PSX and hit FF9 for a while to get my mind off of Dave's strange obsessions. This was a great idea, as it turned out, because FF9 is an awesome game and because I found that was actually sort of afraid to find out what Dave was _doing_ in there with those boxes. The more I thought about a cardboard obsession, the more it frightened me. I mean, seriously. What the heck are you going to do with a box?   
  
It was a pretty normal night to start with. I got lots of cheers from the crowd during the fight scene with Zidane and Blank (I can't remember my exact percentage, but it was better than I had been doing!) and I was doing really well. The DSL guys called and promised they'd come tomorrow, so I should be back online tomorrow. I hope, anyway! I also managed to think of a name that we might be able to use: Philanthropy. I think it keeps our intentions at heart, and it's a diverse enough word that Dave might just like the sound of it or something. It's better than 'deathbringers,' at any rate.   
  
So all was going fine and well, with FF9 and all that. Well, I took a bathroom break, and the bathroom is right across the hall from Dave's room. He was in there, I could tell because he was making weird little noises. I didn't know what was going on. It sounded like he was moaning. I was a bit concerned, thinking he had a stomachache or something. My god, was I ever wrong. I don't think I really even want to type what I found in there when I pushed the door open a little ways. But I will anyway. I don't really know why, it's not like I'll ever FORGET. Or maybe I'll subconsciously erase this day from my memory from the trauma I've received and this will be the only testament to the truth.   
  
Okay, I'm overreacting. I mean, there's nothing wrong with a little self-pleasure once in a while. I'm as guilty of it as the next guy. The part that scared me though...well, he had a little shrine or _something_ in there, and it was completely made out of boxes. They were everywhere. It was truly frightening. And he wasn't just jerking off, as far as I can tell...he was jerking off to the boxes. You know, instead of to a Playboy magazine or something.   
  
I don't think he saw me. He was rather occupied at the moment anyway. I'm just going to pretend I wasn't there. Hey, it worked in Shadow Moses.   
  
Love and Peace,  
Otacon  
  
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A/N: I'm sorry. XD; This was a weird pairing challenge for a Metal Gear Solid Slash community on LiveJournal I'm in. Don't kill me, please. 


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